Successful replacement
by GhostOfYourDreams
Summary: In the fifth year, when Hagrid disappeared for two months, teach Care for Magical Creatures was appointed Walden McNair the executioner of the Ministry. Hermione/dead harsh. Character is mostly film-based (Peter Best is he…?)


I like fanfics that tightly inweaves into a canon, good girls/Death Eaters pairings (this one is pretty creepy though, but that's the point), and sickly love executioners; in movies, comics, pictures. If you know them, leave comments ʝ

...

_I will taste the manna in every tree  
Liquid honey and wine from the distant hills  
An early morning greenwood concerto  
Greets my Walden with its eternal voice_

_Weaving my wings from many-colored yarns  
Flying higher, higher, higher  
Into the wild  
Weaving my world into tapestry of life  
Its fire golden  
In my Walden_

_Nightwish - My Walden_ _(maybe much joyous though... __written to Draconian__)_

...

The indignation of Hermione on edge - Defence Against the Dark Arts, which all were looking forward to, is destroyed again; in such a special time, when Voldemort returned to power, they are not allowed to use magic in classes. In addition, at the end of October, the Ministry simply surpassed itself.

In the morning, in the Great Hall, the students became aware that teaching Care for Magical Creatures will be a Death Eater - an active Death Eater who didn't abandon his bloody business - Walden McNair.

Hagrid was lost for an unknown reason from the start of term and Fudge the Minister for Magic gloated at Dumbledore. He gave the Headmaster an ultimatum: find and bring back the half-giant, otherwise the Ministry will assign a proper teacher by itself, and Dumbledore couldn't keep Professor Grubbly Plank either, because she didn't pass her inspection - children told Umbridge she is terrible, that wasn't true, but Fudge considered it very important for him to impose his will at Hogwarts for any reason.

In an answer to Dumbledore's words, that Voldemort is back and McNair is now back in the ranks, Fudge shouted "Nonsense!" and once again declared that he was cleared of all charges and is a big friend of Lucius Malfoy. Harry knows it well...

The would-be executioner of Buckbeak the hippogriff, can't say thanks to the Gryffindor Trio who deprived him of a bloody pleasure then.

"It's sick! Of course - he is a friend of Lucius Malfoy; isn't it obvious who bought the Ministry, and for what the purpose that beast is here?" Hermione crossed her arms, swathing herself in the robe, when she, Harry, and Ron walked across that school court, where, two years ago, in the middle of a sunny day there sat the terrible executioner in a black mask, sharpening his huge axe; he always gave Granger shivers, when she thought of that case, "For spying for You-Know-Who, on Hogwarts and Harry!"

"Back at the cemetery... Voldemort promised him more worthy victims than he now has," Harry seen that man in the more dramatic circumstances.

"And it'll be you two in the first place," said Ron, "If he knows who stole that hippogriff, he definitely will try to get revenge,"

And he does - the executioner was the one who guessed the hippogriff was dragged into the forest, and if it was not for Headmaster's authoritative word, who offered him to search the sky, in front of the Minister, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would be in trouble. Now, in the light of intrigues, Dumbledore's words mean far less to all.

"Where is Hagrid?" Hermione was anxious, "I want him back!"

"Me too..." answered Harry grimly.

"Let's go to Dumbledore,"

...

The Gryffindors climbed the moving staircase, knocked the Griffin knocker, and entered the ducky golden office with bluish light emitting from the high windows.

"McNair will be an agent for both the Ministry and You-Know-Who. All our secrets will be in danger, Professor." Hermione worried.

"And he will be the only teacher, willingly obeying Umbridge," added Ron, "the same evil!"

Dumbledore chuckled, "And yet, Professor Umbridge, Mr. Weasley. We have a little to do in such a situation, and it would be not prudent of you to seek conflict with any of them,"

"What shall we do, then, Professor? I was thinking of dropping CMC, but it will be in our OWL-S," reasoned Hermione.

"You are right, Mrs. Granger. Your education is much more important than what happens here. And we have little time because the new teacher should be in this office in a minute,"

Hermione glanced nervously at the door.

"Sir, do you think Fudge really knows about Voldemort return and stood by his side, implanting his man in Hogwarts," asked Harry with horror, "or do they really not believe in Voldemort's return and foolishly considers McNair innocent?"

"I think Cornelius has more than one reason for the decision, Harry," said the Headmaster calmly, "But I don't think he would ever take Voldemort's side."

There was silence.

"What about Hagrid, sir?" asked Hermione.

"Rubeus should be alright. He is on a business trip for my very important task. Order's business I believe he will return..." Dumbledore said quietly, but he was restless - Hagrid was sent to the mountains to persuade the giants to the Order's side. Dumbledore was worried when he received an owl from him saying the Death Eaters with the identical assignment was ahead of him and Madam Maxim. McNair is one of them and now the executioner returned from his journey, but Hagrid was nowhere, nor letters from him, for almost two months. What could happen? "It's hard to say by now, but I'm going..." Dumbledore didn't have time to finish his phrase when there was a knock at the door, "Come in!" he said politely.

The Gryffindors turned and saw three people entering the office: McGonagall, Umbridge and the man in a black robe, who at first glance, could be mistaken for Snape with shorter hair and more savage expression. He was thin and tall, but unlike the taciturn noir radiated by the Potion master, McNair emanated impudence, broadness, and disdain – his face unshaven and neglected, hair is more light and mat, and in the dull blue eyes there are signs of deep insanity an experienced killer would have.

The Death Eater looked around with disgust until his gaze delayed on the Trio. He recognized these nefarious children.

Hermione was very scared but decided that it's wrong to fear this person - a wrongdoer of Voldemort. She looked at him, furrowing her brows, showing a challenge. McNair accepted it right now, and the Gryffindor, utterly horrified, resigned instantly, hiding her eyes.

"Professor Dumbledore, let me introduce the new Care for Magical Creatures Professor - the executioner Mr. Walden McNair, considered appropriate by the Ministry," said McGonagall dryly, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice. The executioner didn't say a word, nor show any reaction.

"Well, I see the Ministry knows pedagogy," said Dumbledore cheerfully, "Otherwise, it's difficult to imagine why an executioner could teach how to handle living creatures,"

"I must assure you, Headmaster, Mr. McNair possesses the best knowledge about magical animals, their species and behavior, extensive experience in treating them, and... and..." Umbridge tried to find arguments in defense of Minister's decision, though she knew it was Lucius's.

"I have no doubt at all," Dumbledore smiled and observed McNair through his half-moon spectacles, "Sit down, Walden. And you, Minerva, please take your students,"

"The best knowledge... extensive experience in treating them? Like lopping their heads off?" Hermione knew this man had actually hacked Buckbeak's neck in one of the timelines.

...

The CMC lesson was scheduled for Tuesday afternoon. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked through the Hogwarts grounds towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest, as usual, because they didn't know where else to go. The lesson was double with Slytherins as always, and Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were already there.

"Aren't you pleased with Ministry's decision, Potter?" asked Draco, "or you miss the gigantic loser? I've heard, it turns out, not only wizards don't recognize him as equal, but his congeners refuse him as well," he smirked conspiratorially.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" snapped Harry.

"Don't you know what kind of job your dumb Order instructed him? Ah, you are still too young to be initiated in its affairs... but my father told me ages ago all about it..."

Harry stepped forward, "Say straight what you're talking about, or shut up!"

Crabbe and Goyle stirred.

"No, Harry!" Hermione tugged at his sleeve "Look!" There, behind Draco and his friends, McNair walked hitherward and roughly pushed Ron, who clenched his fists.

"Apparently, the Mudblood knows more about Order's business..." Draco said deliberately loud, seeing the loyal teacher.

"Come after me," McNair said hoarsely.

...

He led them upon frozen autumn leaves to the clearing Hagrid usually showed them beasts. Hermione was reminded of how in this exact place she and Harry hid the hippogriff from this ruthless man's axe two years ago.

In the distance, was seen a pink Umbridge's cardigan. It couldn't get any worse! Next to her was something silvery-white. In a closer look, it turned out to be a unicorn Professor Grubbly Plank showed them.

McNair turned towards the students, "They taught you nothing useful in this place as always, apart from some care-rubbish. For use and benefits, we must treat magical creatures, not for their well-being," he talked in a strong Scottish accent, "All you should know about magical beasts is what kind of threat they are to us and how to kill them to get stuff. Now, these useless white horses..."

Hermione was stirred up by these too Slytherin assertions, "People take pets not only for profit, sir… but for care, friendship... and fun, for example,"

He paused and stared in her direction "What's your name?" he asked quietly but with malice.

"Hermione Granger," she felt indignation and unease when all the students were staring at her; her House could lose points because of her, "Come here,"

McNair grabbed her by the arm, "Would you have fun with me, Hermione Granger?" he whispered, "I know who you are," from that breath on her face Hermione wanted to clean herself. Surely, he knows... She glimpsed a contented Umbridge's face. Hermione ought to fight this Death Eater, whom she defied headfirst. Images of her occur in some closed place with him flashed in her head. Could she stand against him? Now Dumbledore and McGonagall can't promote her – the Ministry took too much power in the school. It's wholly her battle.

"Take this, Granger," he handed her the knife.

"No!" whispered Hermione, - He can't! - she couldn't believe it.

"Unicorns are safe, useless and stupid creatures," the cruel man said contemptuously, "but their horn and wool are extremely expensive, and blood can resurrect the dead. They are hard to catch, but not for a dark wizard

"Mister…Don't you know, what terrible damage causes to oneself one who drinks the unicorn's blood? How deadly he cursed himself?"

"You're an impertinent girl. Do you think you understand dark magic?"

"Umm, not as good as a Death Eater, of course, and an experienced teacher,"

"A former Death Eater, Miss Granger," stated Umbridge.

"He is not a former one! He was in that graveyard - Harry saw all and says the truth!"

Harry stepped forward. Something happens.

"Professor, I should note that this girl shows up in all classes, apparently, thinking her opinion is interesting to anyone," Hermione hates her, "If I were you, I would give her detention,"

The woman smiled.

"Exactly, you are punished, Granger," McNair exclaimed with a triumph, "I'll be waiting for you at nine o'clock in Mr. Filch's office."

They planned it! they planned it! - dawned upon Hermione.

"Finally, you will get yours, Mudblood," gloated Draco, "and no old bearded fool is near anymore," the Slytherins chuckled. Hermione slightly shook off.

...

Indeed, the Ministry's teachers, Umbridge and McNair, can impose punishments without consulting with anyone. She was close to nausea - what that cutthroat could assign her? Filch's tales about chains he keeps in order, in case they are ever needed was fresh in the student's mind. Now, with Umbridge and her crew, it seems such times came.

Granger descended from the Gryffindor tower to the ground floor where the office was, with desperate overpowering. She knocked on the wooden door like in a dream.

A crack into the dark chamber opened. McNair stood in the shadow, a fireplace cast its blaze upon his face and an unbuttoned black shirt; some tattoos were slightly discernible, "Come,"

Sudden graveness was apprehended by Hermione when she entered the forbidding room. The door slammed and the magician put a drowning charm on it.

"What that for?"

He didn't answer; she only heard heavy breathing,

"Well, little bitch," he hung over her. She gasped, collapsing, "I wanted to talk to you ever since… Where is Sirius Black?"

Cold ice stuck in her chest, "I don't know," she said, wilting.

"You know… You smuggled him with that darn hippogriff, Mudblood; a Time-Turner involved there. The Ministry knows it was with you the whole year," they guessed about that story ages ago "Where is the beast?" she had already heard this question, said by the same voice; the nightmare repeats.

How could the hippogriff give out Sirius's apartment, she didn't know, but if it does, Order's headquarters will be known to both Voldemort and the Ministry. She'll not say him a word, "No idea. It may be dead long ago..."

"It's alive, I know it," he said eagerly – it still sores him very much, "and in case you'll not talk, I managed a little Veritaserum at the Ministry," she was frustrated.

He moved into the room. Hermione looked around: dusty filing cabinets, skulls on them; a table with bottles in the middle; an oil lamp; fireplace, in which gloomy light was hanging from the ceiling shackles on chains, nippers, tongs - Filch didn't lie. She went excited. McNair came around the table and took a muddy bottle with some dark liquid, "Come on," he uncorked the bottle and filled the two glasses.

She'll not come; not in this place, towards this madman, to drink Veritaserum. She reached for the wand. Cursing him will put her in trouble with Umbridge, but Sirius's life and the Order are more important for her.

"Expelliarmus!" the man got ahead of her - Granger's wand jerked out of her hand and rolled into darkness.

McNair grasped her roughly to himself, pinning her arms, and with the other hand gripped her face, forcing the jaws apart. Hermione tried to hold her mouth shut, but he stuck his index and middle fingers between her teeth. She clenched the jaws on them, supposing a bone might crush. McNair wailed, jerking his hand.

"Look, I have a wand, and you not. I was told not to use Imperio on children, and in this case, I have to deal with you in your terms... He grabbed her mouth with a hard and dirty kiss and began yanking off her clothes.

Hermione nearly suffocated with repulsion and suddenness. Fog clouded her brains. She doesn't want to be raped. What if? - Oh, Godric! – that's the only chance - what if she just… answered him… could he be more kind to her?

"McNair... I've... desired you since that Buckbeak prosses. I... I always wanted you t...to chop me... I can take it off myself…" The horror made her blind and she saw his ugly face in a blur. McNair grinned nastily, revealing an iron tooth. She bluntly trying to hoodwink him, but he likes it, "Go…" he said. She discarded her mantle and school things, now wearing only thin lacy underwear. Very sexy.

"Oh, girl, you don't know how hard it would go with me… you'll be regret?" McNair shook her, forcing to look at him. He is not as good a Legilement as Snape or Dolohov, though, but it's worth to try.

The day of the exams. The bloody hippogriff, Executing Committee, a sobbing half-giant, "Macnair, he's an old pal o' Malfoy's… but it'll be quick an' clean…", Potter, the Minister, Dumbledore, the masked executioner with a huge axe.

Before her misty gaze now ran the pictures from the third year. The sinister tree flailing its branches. It's getting dark. A dilapidated house, Sirius… He seeks revenge. The wolf moon. The dirty rat. The werewolf. A barking laugh... cold horror, cloaked ones. The soul of Sirius. The golden chain, "Five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it," Flying bird on the moon… the magician tries snatches about Black, but Fidelius Charms doesn't permit the main things to unfold – the shack can't be the headquarters.

He squeezed her against the wall, angrily. Hermione felt half-dead from the assault on the brain. Then he grabbed her hands above the head, and magically hooked then up into the metal cuffs, "You are useless!" The executioner, the beast. Hermione was awfully agitated with anticipation, have been chained. With his knife, McNair pried and yanked her bra and panties, stalking her around.

The images that excited her dreams more than a year, now been alive in her mind, as well as in his because of lame Legitimacy: the crimson sundown in the Hagrid's garden, his hands in fingerless gloves, the eerie shining of the blade in bloody twilight. He caressed her with the same damn hands from behind, squeezing her nipples and shaven crotch, and then only slightly touching the tips, "Do you still want me to do it to you?" Why he tortures her? She doesn't know what to say. No - she already feels ready to vomit with blood from this vile maniac, but couldn't – she ought to keep on challenging him and stand to death - the Order, Harry, Sirius… Executioner, Death Eater – "Eat me," piece by piece… Hermione heard him unclasping his fly. He penetrated her, sucking the air, and pressed the stomach with one hand, and gripping her breast with the other. She never does it before, and the pain was present but almost erased, when she felt herself like been free from something, unlocked - the girl didn't know something such a right and natural as having his resilient shaft inside her.

The axe above the executioner swings over the poor animal; the hand captures her neck; she feels man's stubble and breath …the unmistakable swish and thud of an axe, "They did it! I'd — don't believe it," He did it – then, out of time, and they meddled in the right. The offense flooded the headsman's mind. He jerked her head, and Hermione felt something glass in her mouth. A clear liquid without color and taste spilled into her throat. She wanted to regurgitate, but he snarled, "Where's the hippogriff and Sirius Black?" He is really evil and mad to remember that, - she thought. The words burst out of her by themselves, despite her being aware of their wrong, "12, Grimmauld Place, London,"

12, Grimmauld Place, London, – pounded in his head. Hermione arched toward McNair, trying to do it even deeper - to inhale his manly scent, resolve in him. A sweet shudder trembled her body, as the man stopped, breathing heavily. She cried in honest, hanging will-less on her shackles. McNair released the numb hands, and she swayed on the spot. He closed his pants, and caught her, turning to himself. She saw that ever-emotionless scary face within inches from hers through a veil. They stood like that for a few seconds. "Go," he said and turned away.

Hermione grabbed her things, wrapped herself on them, and retrieved her wand out of the shadow. He unlocked the door, and she dashed into the dim entrance hall.

She must write to Sirius before he'd inform Voldemort. He should run, and Granger, like the last Hog's Head girl, had willingly given herself to McNair the executioner, felt Sirius is the only one person she can tell it all as it was - he could put himself in such a story, he likes adventures. Taking the parchment and quill from her dormitory, Hermione had run to the Owlery, and in the entrance into the night there stood Filch.

McNair threw some powder into the fireplace, and, stepping into it, pronounced, "Malfoy Manor".

…

Here maybe next chapters… but it'd turn the whole OotP sharply. Or maybe Hagrid will return, and McNair will strangle Bode on Christmas and Potter in the Death Chamber (oh, I hate Neville!) as it's supposed.

It was rewritten. I'm Russian, so sorry for the cranky language.


End file.
